


I hang my heart (I hang it over your heart)

by FoxCollector



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkward situations, Background HashiMito, I'm not sure that needs a warning, M/M, Necklaces, Obscure Uchiha Courting Rituals, Possessive Madara, Possessive Sex, Tags galore, art canvas!Tobirama, but also emotionally fulfilling sex, but not mpreg to be clear, eew politics, impatient Hashirama, much biting, not literally though, sad Hashirama, some brief Village politics, unless you are traumatized at the notion of people having kids like I am, vague mentions of pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-04 00:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: In which Tobirama learns he shouldn't necessarily trust gifts from Madara without asking questions.





	I hang my heart (I hang it over your heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandaFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFlower/gifts).



> Big thanks to PandaFlower for helping with the name, because I am terrible with naming things. I'm sure everyone noticed how many of my titles were from songs.
> 
> So as a big thanks, there's a big helping of smut for you! <3
> 
> Also sorry it took so long to post this, but I got a little busy there.
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

            Tobirama is running late. Well, not late exactly. He always leaves himself enough time to get ready before any given appointment, but he is right out of that extra time. Ordinarily, it would be Hashirama’s fault, but this time it’s actually because of his students.

            Hiruzen had been so absolutely determined to get the new technique down, and Tobirama hadn’t had the heart to leave him until he had finished. Unfortunately, that means that he now only has a few minutes to change into something presentable and get down to the meeting his brother had begged him to come to.

            Hashirama had politely ‘requested’ his presence to meet with the head of the Mochizuki clan after she had completely terrified him in their formal negotiation. It’s probably just as well, considering Hashirama can’t be trusted not to embarrass them without supervision.

            He strips off his lighter training gear and glances down at the outfit he’d chosen earlier. Ordinarily the hakama would be the perfect choice for this kind of meeting, but he really doesn’t want to have to deal with putting it on or tying the belt, so he goes rifling through his clothes, looking for something easy and light.

            Ideally, he would prefer to bathe first and then get dressed, but there isn’t enough time for that now.

            Still, the look on Hiruzen’s face had been worth it.

            He can just sponge off a bit and maybe throw on a yukata, he’s not a huge fan of them, but he has one from Mito he’s never worn before. Plus, he supposes it will make him look a little more traditional, and that might go over well with this particular clan.

            So he does, keeping track of time as best he can as he goes.

            He straightens out the fabric – a dark blue with a subtle pattern, Mito has good taste – and is about to leave his room when he runs into Madara in the doorway.

            “Did Hashirama send you to find me? Because I’m on my way now,” Tobirama says. He tries to go around the Uchiha, but Madara stops him.

            “On your way where?” Madara asks, tilting his head just slightly.

            Tobirama frowns. “Meeting. I’m already running late, so if you’re not here to help, can you get out of my way?”

            “Oh. You’re never late. It’s probably fine.” Madara shrugs. Then, “I have something for you.”

            “Can it wait?” Tobirama shifts from foot to foot. He’s about two seconds from using the Flying Thunder God to get there faster. Although it probably wouldn’t look good if he popped in next to the clan head.

            “It’ll just take a second,” Madara says. “Then you can go. Turn around and close your eyes.”

            “Ugh.” Tobirama turns around and closes his eyes like Madara wants him to. It’ll probably be faster if he just goes with it.

            Madara brings something to rest around his neck, and something heavy falls against his collar bone.

            “There, done,” he says.

            Well, that was easy.

            Tobirama opens his eyes, immediately reaching for the pendant to see what it is. It turns out to be the Uchiha clan symbol.

            “You. What?” he asks, running his fingers over the pendant. “Why?”

            “Think of it as a symbol of our clans’ improving relationship,” Madara says.

            Tobirama looks at him suspiciously. He doesn’t really have time to ask much more. “Alright, then. Thank you, but I really have to go now.”

            He tucks the necklace just inside the yukata and kisses Madara on the cheek, just to try and communicate that even though he doesn’t love necklaces, he’s grateful for the thought behind the gift. And then he gives up and teleports to his brother’s side.

            He has no idea which gods are looking out for him, but the Mochizuki clan head isn’t there yet. Hashirama is standing politely outside the small restaurant where they’re supposed to meet, casually tugging at a thread on his sleeve. At this point, the Mochizuki have basically agreed to join the Village, but Chiyome had requested a final meeting to discuss some finer points beyond the standard agreement. She was a very thorough woman, and Tobirama could respect that. She clearly wanted to be absolutely sure she was making the right decision.

            Hashirama jumps. “Gah! I hate it when you do that!”

            “Sorry. I was running late,” Tobirama says.

            “Not that late,” Hashirama mutters. He looks Tobirama over.  “You look…”

            “Awful? I was training with Hiruzen. I really should have left earlier.”

            Hashirama’s face lights up. “I was going to say lively. How is he?”

            “Excited. You know how he gets when he’s learns something new. He just _has_ to get it down,” Tobirama says. Then, “What is that supposed to mean? _Lively_?”

            “Like, alive. And well. And healthy?” Hashirama tries.

            “I should hope I always look alive.” Tobirama crosses his arms.

            “You do! You just look more alive. Probably from the exercise?”

            He takes pity on his brother and changes the subject. “Mito isn’t attending?”

            “She can’t,” Hashirama says. He looks suddenly sullen.

            Tobirama isn’t quite sure why Hashirama reacts like _that_ , but he has no doubt he’ll be hearing about it in detail later.

            The clan head, a severe looking eyebrow-less woman, arrives at nearly the exact moment they’d requested the meeting for. She has brought her adopted son and heir to meet with them for the first time. A positive sign, really.

            The boy looks like a great deal like her, and Tobirama remembers that he is in fact her nephew, adopted after the death of her sister and brother-in-law. The boy is maybe ten years old, but he’s one of the most serious looking children he’s seen. It would probably be good to let him relax and actually enjoy his childhood a bit.

 

            In all, the meeting goes well. Even if Tobirama has to step on his brother’s foot a few times to keep him from saying something stupid. Chiyome's son, named Kotaro, is polite and reserved, and doesn’t really say much although he does express interest in learning with other children.

            Chiyome is a brilliant woman, and very stern. She holds herself like the leader she was never born to be, and Tobirama has heard about her prowess on the battlefield. Touka would probably love to get a chance to train with her. He has no doubt he'll be hearing about that within a week. She's an odd combination of distant and blunt, but the fact that she requested a meeting with them tells him that she is trying to connect, even if she makes the occasional terrifying comment about how she’d killed three men with a chopstick. He has no doubt she’ll be fine.

            Afterwards, when bidding farewell, Chiyome points to his throat and inquires about his necklace.

            “That is not your clan symbol,” she states.

            He’d actually sort of wanted to take it off beforehand and had instead managed to completely forget about it. The collar of the yukata must have slipped open just enough for it show. He tucks it back inside his yukata, a bit embarrassed.

            Thankfully, Hashirama isn’t looking, and is instead settling things with their waitress.

            “It was a gift,” he tells her. “I’m told it’s a symbol of the relationship between our clans.”

            “A thoughtful gift,” Chiyome says. “A bit…forward perhaps, but a nice gesture.”

            He hopes it doesn’t come off as some form of showing off, like ‘we have such good relations with the Uchiha, I can wear their symbol’. He also hopes it doesn’t make him look disloyal to his own clan. He makes a mental note to either not wear the necklace in public, or to keep it hidden.

            Behind Chiyome, he sees Kagami and his mother standing and looking in his direction. Kagami tugs on his mother’s arm and points at him. He’s a little old for the gesture and it makes Tobirama’s eyebrow go up. But he ignores them until he’s properly bid Chiyome and her son farewell.

            When he turns to look, Kagami and his mother are still there. He tells Hashirama he’ll catch up and goes over to speak with them since they are clearly waiting for him.

            “Reika, Kagami,” he greets.

            They return the greeting, Kagami rather enthusiastically, despite having seen Tobirama only hours earlier.

            Reika looks intensely curious and seems to want to ask something, but she’s far too polite to simply blurt it out. Luckily for her, Kagami gives her an opening.

            “So do you belong to us now, Sensei?” Kagami asks. He reaches out to point at Tobirama’s chest.

            Reika turns red. “I’m sorry about that. He just wants to know about your necklace.”

            Of course. He’d sort of hoped no one else had seen it.

            “Oh,” Tobirama says. He raises a hand to bring it out. “It was a gift.”

            “Well, yes, of course.” Reika waves a hand. “Sorry, I should be more specific. He wants to ask about who you’re, well, who you’re with.”

            Tobirama frowns. “Who I’m with?”

            “Who gave it to you,” Reika says, as though that clarifies anything. “There’s usually some identifying mark on the back side…”

            Tobirama reaches up to the pendant, running his thumb over the back. He can feel raised edges.

            “What does it mean?” he asks.

            “Oh,” Reika says. She flushes prettily. “Usually it has to do with whoever gave it to you, something specific about them. Say a particular weapon or the pattern of their Mangekyou. Anything that identifies who you belong to.”

            _Belong_?

            “What?” Tobirama asks. He’s aware his voice has gone a bit cold. He’s not trying to scare Reika, but he’s also starting to understand something.

            “It’s part of a courting ritual in our clan. I’m sorry, were you unaware?” Reika asks. She seems confused and embarrassed.

            “I…” he doesn’t really know what to say. He’s definitely aware _now_.

            “Ah, well, Kagami and I will simply be on our way then. My mistake. Have a good evening,” Reika says. She bows her head slightly, and tugs Kagami’s hand.

            “Bye, Sensei?” Kagami says. He looks a bit confused. “Mom, who’s it from?”

            She hushes him, waving back before she pulls Kagami away.

            Tobirama imagines everyone will be confused when he skins Madara, but that’s okay.

            He takes a second to look, and sure enough, the pattern of Madara’s Mangekyou is etched into the back. It’s rather well done, and he spares a brief moment to admire the craftsmanship before he sets off to destroy Madara.

            He brushes right past Hashirama, who is literally mid-turn at the sound of his approach, prepared to unload about whatever problem he’s having with Mito.

            “Not now, Brother,” Tobirama says. “I have something to take care of, first.”

            “Tobirama!” Hashirama calls after him. It’s almost a wail.

            He doesn’t have to look back to know Hashirama is hanging his head like a sad puppy. He’ll have to deal with that later.

 

            The first place he looks is at Madara’s house, which would seem like a logical place for the man to be, but Madara is anything but logical, and he isn’t there.

            Tobirama would bet money that Madara is avoiding him for a laugh.

            It occurs to him that there are two ways to find Madara when he doesn't want to be found. One is, of course, to 'cheat' and make use of his sensory skills. The other, considerably more fun, is to ignore him. Nothing will make Madara show up faster than ceasing to look for him. It’s almost as if he knows the exact moment when someone gives up and will simply appear in some random easy-to-find location.

            At least, that's what it's always seemed like to Tobirama.

            So ostensibly he sets out to find Hashirama instead. Because that is the best way to find Madara. And he heads home.

 

            Tobirama isn’t sure he should be surprised that Madara is actually waiting in his room. He could feel the other man’s heavy chakra lurking as soon as he reached the door, even when he was barely looking for it, and he wastes no time in heading right up. He slides the door to his own room open, and there's the oddest sensation of being a guest in his own space.

            “You,” Tobirama says accusingly.

            “Me,” Madara agrees. He's reading one of Tobirama’s scrolls and has obviously been snooping around, from the looks of the bookshelf.

            “What were you thinking? Is this one of your power games? You didn’t even tell me what this means,” Tobirama says. It all comes out at once, but he’s sure to put every ounce of displeasure he can muster into his voice. He shuts the door behind him.

            “You didn’t really give me a chance. You ran off right away,” Madara says. He rolls up the scroll and puts it back roughly where it belongs.

            “Well,” Tobirama pauses. He crosses his arms, still standing at the door. “I had to. You could have said anything other than that it was some sort of symbol between clans.”

            “It is though,” Madara says. “Just not the way you thought. It’s a less of a general symbol of alliance and more of a…personal one.” He comes over to stand before Tobirama, eyes skimming over him and then settling on where the necklace still sits, barely tucked in his yukata.

            “I ran into Reika and Kagami. They asked who I _belonged_ to,” Tobirama says, scowling.

            “Did they?” Madara raises a hand and lifts the pendant gently. His expression is smug.

            Tobirama tilts his head back just a bit. The better to look down his nose at Madara.

            “You’re still wearing it,” Madara says.

            Tobirama can feel his cheeks flush. He bats Madara’s hand away and feels the pendant fall heavily on his chest. “I forgot to take it off.”

            “Several times, apparently.”

            Tobirama frowns and reaches up to take the necklace off, but Madara catches his hands.

            “Just wait.” He lines their hands up and interlocks their fingers.

            “For what?” Tobirama glances at their hands, and then locks eyes with Madara.

            “There’s something I want to see,” Madara says vaguely.

            Tobirama sighs, longsuffering. “What?”

            “You. Wearing my symbol.”

            “I _am_ wearing it.”

            “ _Just_ my symbol,” Madara says. His eyes are dark and he tugs Tobirama forward so they’re chest to chest.

            “Oh,” Tobirama says. He knew Madara had a bit of a possessive streak, and he probably should have seen something like this coming, but it still takes him a bit by surprise. It’s, well, it’s hot.

            Madara turns them so he can back Tobirama up towards his bed and stops when they are standing at the edge. He lets go of Tobirama’s hands.

            “Strip,” Madara commands.

            Tobirama bristles. He hates it when Madara orders him around, but he can’t deny that in situations like this, he also finds it attractive. He debates with himself about whether or not to obey.

            “For me?” Madara pushes.

            That makes Tobirama flush with a different kind of embarrassment. He looks away from Madara so he won’t see how smug the other man looks when he reaches to untie his obi and shrug off his yukata. He folds the yukata carefully, knowing that the time it takes always annoys Madara, and then slides out of his underwear so he is completely and utterly naked.

            Well, except for that necklace.

            Madara reaches out and slides his hands down Tobirama’s sides and then pushes him down to lie down on the bed, watching him.

            Tobirama adjusts himself on the bed, so he’s lying more or less properly, parting his thighs just enough to make an invitation of himself. He knows what he wants, and what he likes, and they’ve done this before, but the metal pressing down at the base of his throat burns something like embarrassment through him. It makes it feel different somehow.

            Madara trails a hand down his chest to his stomach, and then steps back to strip off his own clothes. He barely takes his eyes off of Tobirama, and once he’s naked he wastes no time in climbing onto the bed. He crawls over him, the way a panther might, fitting himself between Tobirama’s legs and covering him with his body. Tobirama might be a bit taller, but Madara is broader, built along different lines.

            “Look at you,” Madara says. His eyes spin red as he activates his Sharingan, and Tobirama can feel the shift in his energy like a thrill down his spine.

            Madara presses one finger down on the necklace and then drags it down Tobirama’s chest. “All spread out for me, on your own bed…wearing nothing but my symbol.”

            Madara is already half-hard against him and Tobirama’s own body is responding, whether to the words or the touch, he doesn’t care which.

            He pulls Madara down into a burning kiss, arching into it, feeling electricity spark along his nerve endings everywhere they touch. It’s heady and he has to move back to breathe sooner than he’d like.

            And when he does, Madara moves to suck a bruise onto his throat, and Tobirama can feel teeth. He threads his hands in dark hair and rocks his hips into Madara’s for friction.

            Madara groans and bites him, then switches to the other side of his neck to leave more marks.

            Tobirama huffs in mild annoyance, but the way Madara licks at his pulse point makes him squirm, and he can’t bring himself to complain. He braces his feet on the bed, bringing his knees up around Madara and boxing him in. It’s easier to buck up against Madara this way, to feel the slide of skin on skin.

            Madara thumbs over a nipple roughly and Tobirama twitches against him. So he rolls the nub between his fingers, pinching in a way that makes Tobirama arch up into him with a cry.

            Tobirama wraps his legs around Madara’s waist to hold him impossibly closer and trap heat between them. He digs the nails of one hand in on Madara’s shoulder in a way he knows will probably leave marks, and tugs on Madara's hair with his other hand just to feel Madara groan against his skin.

            Madara slides a hand down, dragging over Tobirama’s cock infuriatingly slowly but not nearly hard enough to satisfy. He pauses briefly to cradle his balls before moving past and rubbing over his hole in light, teasing motions. At the same time, he sucks a bruise into Tobirama’s shoulder. The metal of the necklace burns his skin where it lies.

            Tobirama lets out a breathy moan, then clamps his jaw shut to try and stifle any further sounds.

            “Gods, I need to be inside you,” Madara blurts. He kisses along Tobirama’s collar bone, lips brushing the Uchiha crest sitting red on Tobirama’s skin.

            “Yes.” It almost comes out as a moan. Unfortunately that means he has to move, and they're so tangled together he almost isn't sure he can.

            Tobirama reaches out with his right hand, trying to open the drawer and fish out the lube from the small table next to his bed without having to get up.

            He has to lean to the side a bit, and Madara uses the opportunity to take his left nipple into his mouth. Tobirama plants his other hand on Madara’s head, neither pushing nor pulling.

            “That’s not helping,” Tobirama says, but he manages to find the lube one handed and shove it against Madara’s chest.

            “You’re fine.” Madara detaches himself and grabs the small bottle, he pulls back and Tobirama has to loosen the hold of his thighs so Madara can straighten up.

            He watches Madara uncap the lube and squeeze a generous amount across his fingers, rubbing them together and smearing it across his skin in an exaggerated manner. Madara meets his gaze for a moment with something like a smirk and then moves back farther, so he can press his lips to Tobirama’s thigh while he presses two fingers inside.

            Tobirama drops his head back and fists one hand in the bed sheet so he doesn’t touch himself. He wants to, but he really wants to last as long as he can, and with the way Madara twists his fingers just right… He throws his other arm over his face in an effort to focus on anything else.

            Blocking out the world isn’t a great plan though. It only draws attention to the way it feels as Madara stretches him open slowly and deliberately. He sees stars when Madara slides a third finger in, and he's given up trying to stop the sounds that slip past his lips. He clenches around Madara’s fingers when they twist, pushing down for more, more, more. Madara is sucking bruises into his thighs and pressing against his prostate and it’s maddening. And then he stops, and that’s worse.

            Madara slides his fingers out and moves back up to kiss him, shoving his arm aside and pinning it above his head with one hand, and Tobirama is breathless already.

            Then Madara rolls them so that Tobirama is draped over him.

            He can feel Madara’s erection against him and he’s pretty sure he could come just like this, but he wants to feel Madara inside him too, and he pushes himself up to a sitting position with his hands braced on Madara’s chest. He knows what Madara wants him to do, but Madara tells him anyway.

            “Fuck yourself on me,” Madara says and trails fingers up his thighs to grip his hips.

            He doesn’t have to be told twice. Tobirama reaches back and grips Madara’s cock, drawing a small groan from the other man. He finds Madara has already smeared lube over himself, probably when Tobirama had his eyes covered, and so he lifts himself up and lines them up and allows gravity to help him.

            It’s slick and hot, and every inch that slides into him is almost enough.

            He digs nails into Madara’s chest when he bottoms out, and is still for a moment while he adjusts to the feeling of being so full. Madara’s hands are restless on him, fingers gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, and Tobirama knows he’s already a canvas in red and purple from Madara’s mouth.

            Finally, when it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t move (and he imagines Madara is on the same track, even if he never pushes Tobirama to start moving before he’s ready), he pushes himself up so that only the head of Madara’s cock is still inside him, and then drops down. They both groan at the feeling and Tobirama repeats the motion, Madara’s hands on his hips almost helping.

            Tobirama starts a pace that isn’t nearly enough but it’s all he can do because his thighs are shaking and the way his erection bobs provides zero friction and Madara isn’t helping nearly as much as he’d like.

            When Madara does start to push up to meet him it still isn’t enough.

            “Harder,” Tobirama says. His blunted nails are leaving red lines on Madara’s skin.

            Madara obliges, and it’s better, because now Madara is hitting where he wants and it sends shocks through his body that make him clench down and Madara groan.

            Tobirama braces on one hand and reaches to touch himself, but Madara growls and grabs his wrist.

            “Touch me then,” Tobirama bites out.

            Madara grips his thighs hard and sits up, colliding their chests together and changing his angle inside Tobirama to make him see stars.

            Tobirama wraps his arms around Madara’s neck, tangling his fingers in long black hair. It’s easier for him to move himself like this, when he can also push off of Madara’s shoulders, and Madara helps him more, gripping his thighs and using them as leverage to lift and drop Tobirama on his cock.

            There is friction against Tobirama’s own straining erection and the edge of almost-enough makes him moan into Madara’s mouth in an open-mouthed kiss. He can feel the way the necklace thuds against his collarbone obscenely with every movement and it feels like it’s leaving its own mark on his skin.

            He feels a little overwhelmed.

            It’s an invasion of his space in every sense; his room, his body, his identity, everything. It threatens to shake him apart at the seams, and the only thing holding him together is the very person threatening to pull him apart.

            He loves it.

            Madara presses hard into him and Tobirama can tell he’s close from the jerky movements of his hips. He traces the red line on Tobirama’s chin with his tongue and then buries his head against Tobirama to bite at his shoulders and muffle his own sounds. And finally, Madara slides a hand between them and wraps it around Tobirama’s aching cock.

            Tobirama makes a noise that is closer to a whine than he’d like, hips stuttering between Madara’s hand and Madara’s cock, and he doesn’t know which he wants more, just that he's so close.

            “Mine,” Madara growls against him.

            It pushes Tobirama over the edge, makes his head spin and his toes curl and his back arch. He thinks maybe Madara’s name makes it past his lips in broken syllables, but he can’t be sure, couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears.

            He feels Madara come inside him and hears his name on a low breath. It makes his heart flutter stupidly.

            After a moment Madara leans forward, laying him down on the bed.

            Tobirama wants to protest, because now their feet will be on his pillows, but he can’t find the energy or the willpower. Instead he just tightens his grip in Madara’s hair and keeps them locked together.

            It starts to get uncomfortable after a while, and so he allows Madara to slide out and lay down beside him. Madara props himself up on his side so he can watch Tobirama breathe, and his eyes are still deep red. He traces the line on Tobirama’s cheek for a moment and then reaches out to touch the pendant again.

            “You look good like this,” Madara says.

            “Do you really like me in your symbol that much?” Tobirama asks, one eyebrow raised.

            “Well, yes, that too, but I meant covered in come,” Madara says, still toying with the necklace.

            Tobirama swats his hand away and frowns. He picks up the small heavy pendant himself, feeling the heated metal engraved with the pattern of Madara’s eyes.

            “I suppose I could wear this. Sometimes,” Tobirama says.

            “Oh, and just so you know, it’s a custom to give it to lovers outside of the clan to mark them. Anyone who wants to know who you belong to can just flip that over,” Madara says.

            The explanation is more than a little late, and Tobirama raises his eyebrows in his very best 'no, really?' expression.

            “You’re very possessive,” Tobirama says flatly.

            Madara gives him a sort of half-shrug. “Thought you would have figured that out by now.”

            “Oh, I’m not complaining,” Tobirama says. And he isn’t, not really, but it makes something in his stomach knot when he thinks about it.

            “So you’re mine then.” Madara sounds satisfied.

            “And you?”

            “Yours.” Something around Madara’s eyes crinkles with warmth.

            It makes Tobirama lean over and kiss him. It’s deep and sweet and Tobirama could get lost in it.

            There’s the sound of a door banging shut and loud footsteps on stairs.

            They spring apart and Tobirama is sure the horrified look on his face complements Madara’s.

            “Tobirama, are you here?” Hashirama calls out. He’s already up the stairs, and knowing Hashirama, he won’t bother stopping at the door. Personal space means nothing to him.

            Tobirama is up in a flash, wincing slightly as he pulls on the closest robe. He shoves Madara to one side, out of the line of sight and hurries to reach the door before his brother.

            “Are you in there?” Hashirama asks.

            Tobirama opens the door and steps out, nearly knocking into his brother on the other side of the door in his hurry. He slides the door shut behind him.

            “Brother,” he greets, breathlessly casual.

            “Can we talk now?” Hashirama asks. He looks so hopeful.

            “Now?”

            “Yes, now.” Hashirama pouts. He gestures at the shut door behind Tobirama. “Aren’t you done whatever it was you needed to do?”

            “Technically.” And he tries not to think too hard about that.

            “Then please?”

            The feeling of come dripping down his thigh makes him press his legs together. He is definitely not comfortable trying to talk to his brother like this. “Can I just have ten more minutes?”

            “I have to go in ten minutes,” Hashirama says. Then he pauses. “That looks like Madara’s.”

            Tobirama carefully doesn’t react, because he’s also just realized that he grabbed Madara’s robe. At least the high neck is covering the smattering of marks the Uchiha left all over him.

            “Well, it isn’t,” Tobirama lies.

            Hashirama narrows his eyes and then shrugs. “Okay. Whatever you say. I need your advice and I don’t even know if you can help.”

            “Try me,” Tobirama says. He crosses his arms over his chest.

            “Well, you know Mito and I have been trying for a child,” Hashirama begins, and waits for Tobirama to nod before continuing, “We just found out today that she’s not pregnant. Nothing’s working! You know things! What do I do?” By the end of it his volume has risen considerably.

            Tobirama can understand his brother’s frustration, but this isn’t exactly something he can help with. Still…

            “This isn’t my area of expertise,” he hopes his face isn’t red, “but I can look into it.”

            “Thank you! See, that’s all I wanted. You’re good at finding answers,” Hashirama says.

            He pulls Tobirama into an uncomfortable hug that Tobirama tries to stop with hands on his brother’s chest. It doesn’t work very well. Tobirama isn’t sure he’s ever felt more embarrassed, or dirtier.

            “I mean, who knew having a kid could be so hard? I’m usually so good at making life,” Hashirama says.

            Tobirama frowns at him. “Brother, really.”

            Hashirama laughs at him. “Well, thanks. I’ve really gotta go though. I’ll be back sometime tonight, so don’t wait up. And you can finish your whatever.”

            He really didn’t do anything at all. It always amazes Tobirama how much the little things like listening can mean to his brother. It makes him feel special. It makes him actually start planning how he’s going to approach researching pregnancy, because his brother needs his help.

            “All right then,” Tobirama says. He turns on his heel and retreats back into his room, slamming the door in Hashirama’s face.

            Hashirama doesn’t even wait before he wanders off, unfazed.

            Come to think of it, he never did say where he was going.

            Madara is reclining on the bed, an amused expression on his face.

            Tobirama pulls the robe, _Madara’s_ robe, over his head and throws it in the other man’s face.

            “I wish you would have said something,” he says. He sits down on his bed and grimaces.

            “Really? If I’d said anything, he would have heard me. And also, you look good in my clothes,” Madara says.

            “I feel gross.” Everything is drying on him and it makes him wrinkle his nose.

            “Wash off then. I’ll help you.”

            “You never help anything,” Tobirama accuses.

            “I’ve helped at least one person. Somewhere. Once. Maybe.”

            “It doesn’t count.”

            Madara’s idea of helping is decidedly unhelpful, but the massage that comes from his questing hands is nice enough to let it slide.

            Tobirama is definitely going to have wear some higher collars for the next few days, or possibly bring out the fur collar. Sure, he could heal the smattering of bruises and marks, but where's the fun in that?

 


End file.
